Two or Three Events in the Last Days 038-3
Chapter 38 Part 3 of 3
Before shelling the corn, everyone first sorted the ears into good and bad piles. The good kernels would be dried a little longer before being ground directly into cornmeal for food. The damaged ears would be picked through to salvage any usable kernels, while the spoiled ones would be ground up as feed for the pigs and chickens.
The production station still housed both a large and a small stone mill.
Before the processing station had been built years ago, the villagers had used these mills to grind freshly harvested rice and corn. There was also a large stone mortar for pounding rice, all of which had been carefully preserved there.
Now that machinery was no longer usable, many aspects of daily life had returned to the old ways.
On a cool day, Zhao Chenghuai, Jing Lin, and Zhao Zhiwen loaded a sack of unhusked rice and half a sack of corn onto a cart and headed for the processing station.
Knowing they planned to mill fresh rice, Yan Fei brought one of his horses to help and to learn the process as well. His family had already eaten half the bag of rice they’d bought when returning to the village, so sooner or later they would need to use the stone mill themselves.
Using livestock instead of human labor was slower than modern machines, but far less exhausting.
Several days earlier, villagers had already cleaned the long-unused stone mills and stone mortar and put them back into service.
Everything was ready. The group divided up the work.
They blindfolded the horse with a strip of black cloth. It stamped restlessly at first, but after Yan Fei stroked and soothed it for a while, it settled down.
Zhao Chenghuai led the horse around the mill.
Zhao Zhiwen swept the dehusked brown rice into piles before pouring it into the stone mortar.
Yan Lu, being exceptionally strong, wielded the wooden pestle to pound the rice. Given her strength, she was the most suitable person for this strenuous task.
Meanwhile, Jing Lin and Yan Fei scooped out the pounded rice and poured it into a hand-cranked winnowing machine.
As they turned the fan, the rice bran was blown away while the clean rice fell from another opening directly into the grain sack Yan Fei held beneath it.
After repeating the process several times, the freshly milled rice became perfectly clean.
When all the rice had been milled, they swept up the husks and bran to take home as well.
Grinding cornmeal was much simpler. The only challenge was taking the extra time needed to grind the corn finely enough.
Jing Lin still hadn’t finished the twenty jin of rice Zhao Chenghuai had previously given him. He had stored it carefully and occasionally spread it out under the hot sun to dry, so it had never developed rice weevils. Even so, Zhao Chenghuai gave him another twenty jin and told him to take it home for storage.
As for the freshly ground cornmeal, Zhao Chenghuai handed half of it to Yan Fei and told him to take it home.
Two or Three Events in the Last Days (TELD) is translated by Betwixted Translations. The site you’re reading this chapter on stole our translation.
Yan Fei declined. “We still have plenty at home.” His family had collected a good amount of early-season corn from nearby villages back then. They kept a stock of both corn kernels and cornmeal, as it was a filling food.
Zhao Chenghuai refused to let him decline. “You spent the whole day helping us. At least take some home and have a taste.”
“Then I won’t stand on ceremony.” Yan Fei accepted the gift.
“All right, go put the horse away first,” Zhao Chenghuai said. “Then come back with Lu Lu later. Aunt Yu is making corn pancakes for you.”
“Then the two of us thank Uncle Zhao and Aunt Yu in advance.”
After lunch, Zhao Chenghuai wanted to inspect the rice fields, so Jing Lin and Zhao Zhiwen accompanied him.
He visited several paddies, checking both his own fields and those belonging to others. The more he looked, the deeper his frown became.
Ma Renshan and his brother were also in the fields. Seeing Zhao Chenghuai, they walked over. “How’re your crops doing?”
Zhao Chenghuai shook his head. “Not good. They feel too light in the hand. More than half the grains on each stalk are empty.”
Empty grains were husks that had never filled with rice. A mature grain should feel plump when pinched, while an empty grain was flat and hollow. The more empty grains there were, the lower the harvest yield would be.
Ma Renshan sighed. “I’ve checked nearly every family’s rice fields in the village. They’re all the same. Harvest is only about ten days away, and with rice like this… I don’t know how much we’ll actually get per mu.”
The variety grown around Jing Lin’s village was mid-season rice, normally harvested in early autumn, from late August through mid-September. Everyone had spent the past months celebrating that the rice crop seemed unaffected.
Only now did they realize where disaster had truly been waiting.
Moreover, in previous years, harvesters would come into the village during harvest season, and all the villagers had to do was haul the rice home to dry. But this year, cutting the rice had to be done by hand, and threshing also had to be done by hand. By the time all the rice fields were harvested, everyone would probably lose over ten pounds.
Everyone returned home with heavy hearts. Zhao Zhiwen dug out a large threshing tub—a piece of equipment that hadn’t been used in years—and dusted it off. It was used for threshing grain during the harvest—a job that relied entirely on brute strength and was even more exhausting than reaping the rice. Zhao Chenghuai then discussed things with the family. With so many acres of paddy fields, it was impossible for just the few of them to harvest everything on their own. They would have to hire help. Hiring people meant paying wages, but money was useless now, so they would have to barter with goods instead. What to offer, and how much it should be worth, were both difficult questions.
Two or Three Events in the Last Days (TELD) is translated by Betwixted Translations. The site you’re reading this chapter on stole our translation.
Zhou Yu said, “We only have one old sickle at home.” It was the one she had dug out from a corner and sharpened before to cut pigweed. It certainly wasn’t suitable for harvesting rice.
Jing Lin said, “Tomorrow, Zhiwen and I will go out and ask about the current grain prices.” Ever since returning from Huangtai Town, they hadn’t gone anywhere. All the news they had received came secondhand from villagers who had traveled outside, and that wasn’t ideal.
“Good. While you’re at it, stop by Blacksmith Liu’s place in Chahe Village. He should have sickles for sale.” Blacksmith Liu was the same blacksmith who had forged Yan Lu’s axe. His family sold all kinds of tools, including hoes, kitchen knives, pots, and sickles.
“Alright.”
They naturally didn’t forget to inform Yan Fei and Yan Lu. Since they were going to buy sickles the next day, they would have to bring grain for barter. It also wasn’t safe for only two people to travel. Besides, Yan Fei’s family probably lacked these tools as well. Items like these would only become scarcer in the future, so Jing Lin and the others planned to buy extra.
The next day, Zhao Chenghuai measured out fifty jin of wheat and divided it into two portions for Zhao Zhiwen and Jing Lin to carry. On a whim, Jing Lin also filled half a basket with bokchoy and slung it over his back. Yan Fei and Yan Lu each carried over twenty jin as well.
Chahe Village lies opposite Xiejia Village. Its houses were built along a river, and the land wasn’t especially elevated. Every year during heavy rains, the people living by the river worried that it would overflow. While the houses themselves usually stayed safe, the low-lying farmland was always flooded to some extent.
There was no need to pass through Xiejia Village to reach Chahe Village. Crossing the bridge on the left side of their village entrance and passing through a stretch of farmland led directly into Chahe Village. Blacksmith Liu’s home stood at the front of the third village, with a sign outside reading, “Liu Family Iron Shop.”
Blacksmith Liu kept a dog. Its appearance hadn’t changed much, and it didn’t seem to have mutated, but the moment it saw Jing Lin and the others, it became unusually vicious. It barked furiously at them and kept lunging forward despite the chain around its neck pulling painfully tight. Watching it strain against the chain made Jing Lin and the others wince in sympathy.
Hearing the commotion, Blacksmith Liu came out of the house. He recognized Zhao Zhiwen and the Yan siblings. Seeing familiar faces, he turned and barked an order at the dog. The dog immediately quieted down and lay where it was, though it still let out low growls from time to time, as if warning Jing Lin and the others to behave because it was keeping a close eye on them.
After entering the iron shop, Yan Lu spoke first. “This dog wasn’t nearly this fierce the last time we came.”
“It has tasted blood,” Blacksmith Liu said. “More than ten days ago, several thieves sneaked into the village in the middle of the night. My dog snapped its chain. If I hadn’t come out in time, one of those men would’ve been bitten to death.”
Everyone immediately understood that the “blood” he meant was human blood.
Just like how many people in cities insisted on keeping large dogs that residential communities prohibited, the fierce dog outsiders feared was still the same obedient pup in Blacksmith Liu’s eyes. After helping catch thieves, he treasured it even more, despite its hearty appetite.
“People have already started stealing?” Zhao Zhiwen asked. Their village had always enjoyed good public security, and it had been many years since anyone’s belongings had been stolen.
Blacksmith Liu shook his head. “When people have nothing to eat and nothing useful left, they steal. So, what are you here to buy? Seeing you carrying grain tells me you already know money’s worthless.”
“We’re here to buy sickles,” Yan Fei said. “We just don’t know how you’re pricing things now.”
Instead of answering, Blacksmith Liu raised his chin toward Jing Lin. “Put down the vegetables in your basket and let me take a look.”
The bokchoy grown inside the spirit gathering array remained fresh long after being picked. Before leaving, Jing Lin had even sprinkled water over the leaves, which still hadn’t dried completely, making them look especially crisp and fresh.
Two or Three Events in the Last Days (TELD) is translated by Betwixted Translations. The site you’re reading this chapter on stole our translation.
Blacksmith Liu rummaged through them briefly before asking, “Can I have a taste?”
“Yes.” Jing Lin snapped off a leaf stalk, broke it into two smaller pieces, ate one himself, and handed the other to Blacksmith Liu. “Have a taste.”
Blacksmith Liu chewed the stalk, then nodded. “It tastes good. How are you selling it?”
Jing Lin answered honestly, “It’s the first time we’ve sold it. The price depends on the current grain market.”
Blacksmith Liu led them to a corner of the shop and pointed at a row of long-handled sickles on a shelf.
“We’re all neighbors, and I’ve never cheated anyone in business. These sickles used to cost fifteen yuan each. By the old prices, it would’ve taken fifteen jin of wheat to trade for one. But grain outside has become very expensive. Just yesterday, someone traded wheat for goods here, and a sickle only cost two jin of wheat. My family doesn’t lack wheat, though. Leave me all the vegetables in your basket, and I’ll give you ten sickles. How about it?”
There were at least ten jin of vegetables in Jing Lin’s basket. Trading one jin for one sickle was undoubtedly a bargain for them. But it also showed that vegetables had become even more valuable than wheat—a staple for filling one’s belly. Apparently, the terrible taste of most mutated vegetables had greatly affected everyone’s lives.
It was something Jing Lin’s group had completely overlooked. Only their three households still had access to fresh vegetables. Everyone else ate pickled vegetables, fermented vegetables, or dried vegetables every meal. Many people hadn’t had a single bite of fresh vegetables in days.
The situation in Blacksmith Liu’s village was exactly the same. The vegetables in everyone’s gardens had become awful, while the good-tasting varieties had all died off. It was bad enough that they couldn’t eat meat every day—they couldn’t even get fresh vegetables anymore. Blacksmith Liu and his family had all been constipated for several days and desperately needed fresh vegetables to set things right.
In the end, Jing Lin traded the bokchoy for ten sickles. He then traded another fifty jin of wheat for ten more sickles, two kitchen knives, and a wood-cutting blade. Yan Fei traded for two kitchen knives, one wood-cutting blade, and more than ten sickles.
After leaving Blacksmith Liu’s house, the group headed home carrying baskets full of blades. Before they left, Blacksmith Liu had asked whether Jing Lin still had any bokchoy at home and how it was grown, since people in his own village also planted bokchoy but theirs tasted terrible. Jing Lin naturally couldn’t tell him the truth. He only said that it had grown on its own without anyone taking care of it, and that there wasn’t much left at home because they needed to save it for themselves.
Blacksmith Liu could only give up with great regret. The bokchoy wasn’t astringent even when eaten raw—it really was delicious.
When they returned to the village, they happened to run into several other villagers. Seeing Jing Lin and the others come back with newly traded sickles reminded them that they also needed to prepare harvesting tools. After asking how much the sickles cost, Jing Lin told them they were trading at two jin of wheat per sickle. The man’s expression immediately darkened. He had been among those who had recently returned from outside and had experienced hunger firsthand, so he treasured grain greatly. Hearing that grain was required for the trade made him reluctant to part with it.
But whether he wanted to or not, the exchange had to be made. Jing Lin reminded him that Blacksmith Liu didn’t have many sickles left, and people from other villages had already begun buying them.
The man no longer dared to hesitate. If he waited too long and they sold out, who knew where he could find more? After all, when it came time to harvest the crops, it’s not like he could just harvest them by hand. Harvesting without tools wasn’t an option. At least he knew Blacksmith Liu, and buying elsewhere certainly wouldn’t be any cheaper.
He hurried off to notify several acquaintances. After weighing out their grain, they grabbed their weapons and left the village together.
The trip didn’t take long, and it was still early when Jing Lin and the others returned home. Zhao Chenghuai said he was going to cut bamboo and weave several carrying baskets for the harvest, which would also give him a chance to try out the new wood-cutting blade.
Most elderly farmers in the village knew how to weave things from split bamboo. Summer fans, vegetable strainers, dustpans, carrying baskets, and the large baskets carried with shoulder poles could all be made from bamboo strips.
The village bamboo grove lay at the foot of the mountain, with each household owning a small section. Zhao Chenghuai selected and cut more than a dozen suitable bamboo stalks. He wasn’t only making baskets for his own family but also for Yan Fei’s. When Yan Ruifeng learned Zhao Chenghuai planned to weave carrying baskets, he asked him to make several pairs for their family as well. They had never grown grain before, so they lacked many farming tools. In return for the baskets, Yan Ruifeng promised to bring his son and daughter over to help during the autumn harvest. As for Zhou Feifei, Yan Ruifeng was a devoted husband who cherished his wife; the heavy and dirty work could be handled by himself and his two children.
Each person dragged back two bamboo poles, one in each hand. After stripping off all the branches in the courtyard, Zhao Chenghuai got to work.
Weaving carrying baskets was skilled craftsmanship. A well-made pair could last for many years. Zhao Chenghuai worked for many days straight. By the time villagers had already begun harvesting their rice, he finally finished weaving all the baskets.
Before long, the Zhao family also joined the autumn harvest.
Jing Lin, Yan Fei, and Zhao Zhiwen were responsible for cutting the rice. Yan Lu, whose strength kept increasing, worked alongside Zhao Chenghuai, slamming bundles of harvested rice against the threshing tub to thresh out the grain. Yan Ruifeng bagged the grain, loaded it onto a wooden cart, and hauled it home by horse before dumping it into the courtyard. Zhou Feifei spread the grain out and turned it over for drying, while Zhou Yu stayed in the kitchen preparing lunch for all three families.
Thanks to her tremendous strength, Yan Lu only had to strike each bundle twice to knock out all the mature grains. She worked so quickly that Jing Lin and the other two couldn’t cut the rice fast enough to keep up with her. Jing Lin and the others fared well enough. By practicing their cultivation techniques before bed and again upon waking, they ensured a good night’s sleep and abundant energy for the day ahead. Their physical condition also improved steadily thanks to daily combat training and the constant tempering of spiritual qi. Although they spent all day bent over working, they never felt especially exhausted.
Zhao Chenghuai couldn’t keep up. After all, he was getting old. The others had assigned him to threshing because they worried that staying bent over all day would be too hard on him. Even so, repeatedly swinging with all his strength was exhausting. Finally, Yan Lu waved him away and told him to rest while she handled the work herself. He only needed to come back if she eventually became too busy.
The sight made the three young men feel deeply embarrassed. One young woman was doing the work of three grown men. Even though it was simply because of her incredible strength, they still felt awkward. Villagers passing by their fields often teased them when they saw Zhao Chenghuai resting while a beautiful young woman worked tirelessly in the sun. The teasing was always good-natured or filled with envy, because nearly everyone in the village knew about Yan Lu’s extraordinary strength.
Everyone in the village knew that the Zhao and Yan families were close, and they more or less understood what both families had in mind. In the past, anyone with a daughter-in-law as beautiful as Yan Lu would already have been the envy of others. Now that she was not only beautiful but also exceptionally strong and an outstanding worker, people envied the Zhao family’s good fortune even more.
Words from the Translation Crew
Miiya: Two of two for the week.
Pinned note: Chapters 38-47 (except 45) are almost 3times in length.
Translator: Miiya
Editor: MushroomKnight73
Proofreader: Yume
Avid BL reader, editor, and translator with 1 story completed (CLWP) and 1 story in progress (TELD). Support this translation with a Ko-fi. Three Ko-fis will add an extra chapter from the stockpile to the next weekly release.
